


Two hours from the clock

by Janyss



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:20:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27458638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Janyss/pseuds/Janyss
Summary: In the hospital waiting room
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Kudos: 53





	Two hours from the clock

**Author's Note:**

  * For [isafil](https://archiveofourown.org/users/isafil/gifts).



> Written for the FB prompt "clock" from the page Mystrade is our division.  
> The clock has a silver colour because of a Jacques Brel's song called "les vieux" mentioning a silver clock waiting for everyone of us with its tick tock... But there's a happy ending here!

"So, you want to stay here, right?"

Mycroft nodded. His brother hardly hid a hint of amused surprise, gave him a quick smile and added before leaving:

"OK. Call us, will you?"

The elder Holmes remained alone in the waiting room of the hospital where Sherlock and the DI Lestrade had been admitted a few hours before, after some operation gone wrong. Sherlock had just got a few bruises, but had called Mycroft so that Greg could be admitted in a good hospital. The policeman's condition was very serious according to the first rescuers. 

Greg had been kept in intensive care for a while. Mycroft had been able to be registered as someone close to the victim and had been systematically referred to for any piece of information. A surgeon was now coming to him.

"Good evening, Mr Holmes. I would like to bring better news, but DI Lestrade's condition is very serious. He needs other operations, but he's too weak now to proceed. He needs a minimal recovery and we're not sure he can reach it. We have to wait right now, we can't do anything more at the moment. I'll be called as soon as his indicators allow the operations to happen, but if I'm not back in two hours, at twelve... Well, he'll be too far away to try anything."

Mycroft hardly whispered a few "thank you..." as the doctor left. He soon realised the silence was not absolutely complete: the tick tock of a silver clock hooked on a wall was resonating in the empty room. He didn't really worried about it and thought of Greg's situation. Well, actually, of THEIR situation. Sherlock had marked a time of surprise for a reason. A few weeks ago, they had begun developing an affair, which didn't seem very serious, yet. Just two grown men, very busy civil servants clearly attracted physically to each other who had decided to have some good time now and then, without any other commitment.

The hands of the clock were running, and were now aligned, dividing the clock in two. The noise went on. Mycroft thought of those incandescent moments he had spent in Greg's bed, and began to wonder. Hadn't it been a hint of sadness on the DI's face, a few days ago, when he decided to leave without even sharing a cup of coffee after a passionate night? He had given a poor excuse about work.

One of the hands now seemed to fall towards the bottom of the clock. No one, no medical official, was crossing the empty room.

Mycroft hardly noticed the buzz of his phone. Anthea was asking in a short SMS if he wanted her to bring some food and a set of clothes. She could be here within an hour, she wrote. He accepted, thinking that it would distract him from this insufferable wait... And from the questions he couldn't avoid now: the latest morning together was not the only moment he had erased Greg's attempts to deepen their bond. Why had he done such a thing? Greg was a model of a decent man, who had always been there, whatever it took, for Sherlock and for him. He was, of course, an incredibly handsome man, and somehow, he had found him attractive. Besides, Mycroft had long forgotten physical connexion with someone else could be this good, this complete. All this was part of the answer: Mycroft wanted the deepest and most complete possible relationship with Greg as well, obviously taking it step by step, but he had wasted many opportunities now.

Anthea's arrival cut his breath. One hour more spent! He had almost forgotten the continuous noise and the hands running on the dial, but now the reality was there: no doctor had came around, and there was only half an hour left... He thanked his assistant and sat again, staring at the door. He thought knew why now. The mrch of the hands brought more and more uncertainty, but allowed him to find the answer: he was afraid to be rejected. He had been afraid to take his chance, and the result was that he had rejected someone who offered him a new step in his life, the kind of step he always had wished to take. Trusting someone completely, relying on a partner, forgeting the heavy decisions that had to be made everyday in his position... Would destiny give him such a chance? Would Greg recover? And if this happened, wouldn't he consider Mycroft's decision was to late, just made owing to the stressful wait of the latest hours?

But the hands were now running to twelve o'clock, and no one had shown. Mycroft now wanted to stop hearing the tick tock and stop watching the dial. He closed his eyes and put the hands on his ears. 

Just as he was about to push in order to find healing in an illusory silence where the clocks would have stopped, someone pushed the door. The doctor hardly stopped his walk to the operation room and just waved at him with a wide smile:

"The nurses just called me! Here we go! That won't be very long, DI Lestrade has even been able to call your name while they were making him ready! Watch the clock! Two hours more and you'll be next to him!"

"Jus two hours from this clock, faraway from him, Mycroft thought. And much, much more after, together... I promise, my love!".


End file.
